


under starry skies we are lost

by renlyne



Series: meanwhile a man was falling from space [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Basically I just cry about Bucky Barnes a lot and sometimes write it down, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky remembers things and it's all super tragic, Implied Red Room past, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:38:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renlyne/pseuds/renlyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yet here we are, on an American rooftop in New York City, just watching the world go by. So maybe they weren’t as powerful as we gave them credit for. Maybe we’re stronger than they ever thought.” Natasha looked at him then, studying his profile as he gazed ahead. </p><p>“Maybe, against all odds, you’re going to be okay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	under starry skies we are lost

**Author's Note:**

> The first in a collection of drabbles (where Bucky Barnes really just needs a hug)

Natasha has had practice with snipers.

She’s learned that when upset they retreat high up, look at things from far away to make sense of the reality in front of them.

In reality, he’d laughed. He’d laughed as Sam put him and Steve down after the test flight of Tony’s new-‘you didn’t used to have full mobility while carrying multiple people who designed these things was this fucking Hammer tech?’-and-improved wings. He’d said “My God Steve, you’re really never gonna forgive me for that damn cyclone, are ya?" 

And then he’d frozen with an expression horrifyingly tied between grief and a deer in the headlights. A man who’d known intellectually what had been stolen from him, but had only just started to believe it.

Sure enough, Natasha found him sitting on the ledge of the Avengers tower roof Tony had assured them was impossible to access.

She sat next to him, on the far side of the metal arm (never let it be said that Natasha Romanoff takes unnecessary risks, she thought wryly, sitting 50 stories up and well in reach for him to simply push her off).

The silence was comfortable as the minutes passed, but that was the problem with ex-Soviet assassins. Sitting without speaking was easy as breathing, so words weren’t spoken even when they needed to be said.

She could give him a little more silence though, and pretend she wasn’t steeling herself. ‘Who do you want me to be’, she’d asked Steve, but right now she wasn’t much concerned with want. Right now, she knew who she needed to be, and damn if it didn’t bring back memories better left buried.

Natasha took another breath before speaking softly and slowly.

“Sometimes, when people are made into something more, the results are miraculous. Steve Rogers was good, and he became great. Other times, the people they start with want to be good. And when they’re made into something bigger, that wanting grows too. But it’s not everything, because there is a part of you that’s not good, something that will see black and white as shades of grey, that fundamental difference between Steven Grant Rogers and Natalia Alianovna Romanova or James Buchanan Barnes. That part grows too. The Red Room erased the wanting, and left us with only that shadow.” She paused, “Yet here we are, on an American rooftop in New York City, just watching the world go by. So maybe they weren’t as powerful as we gave them credit for. Maybe we’re stronger than they ever thought.” Natasha looked at him then, studying his profile as he gazed ahead. “Maybe you’re stronger than you think you are.”

His breathing had deepened, as if it had wanted to speed up but he was refusing to allow it. Natasha had the strange desire to lay a hand on his arm — provide comfort — but they were two sides of a coin, and she knew uninvited contact was a good way to break a wrist. “Maybe, against all odds, you’re going to be okay.” 

He didn’t respond, but there was a slope to his shoulders and a set to his mouth that was starting to look more like the WWII newsreels Steve watched when he thought no one was around.

The truth isn’t the same for all people at all times, but here and now, Natasha had the rare feeling of being wholly and completely honest.

“James, you’re going to be okay.”

 

 

 


End file.
